


Between A Man And A Woman

by ragdoll



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alley Sex, Community: hp_beholder, Eloping, F/M, Hogsmeade, Honeymoon, Marriage, Married Couple, Pregnant Molly, Romance, Seduction, Semi-Public Sex, Shotgun Wedding, Wall Sex, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-21
Updated: 2014-05-21
Packaged: 2018-01-25 23:54:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1667105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ragdoll/pseuds/ragdoll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Molly Prewett's father doesn't approve of her choice of a husband, she is forced to take drastic measures in order to marry the man she loves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between A Man And A Woman

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iamisaac](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=iamisaac).



> Written for Hp_Beholder 2009

Looking back on things years from now, Arthur Weasley would know exactly what had transpired that day and why. But today, he only knew that he wanted to be with the girl he loved, Molly Prewett, and Molly wanted to be with him. Of course, had someone asked him on the morning in question how he was planning on spending the day with his girlfriend — _fiancée_ —, this would not have been his answer. He'd imagined a nice afternoon walking through the town of Hogsmeade, a romantic tea at Madam Puddifoot's, or perhaps even a quick drink at the Three Broomsticks to celebrate their engagement even though it had officially happened two months ago.

Instead, he was standing in a cold, damp alleyway just off the Hogsmeade High Street, trousers down around his ankles, robes bunched up behind him, and glasses askew, wound around Molly, who was in a similar state of disarray. 

"Oh, Arthur, oh…Arthur!" she crooned in his ear, one leg pressed against his bared hip, the clips of her suspenders cutting into his skin as the rough fabric of her stockings rubbed against him. 

Arthur covered her mouth with his to stifle her cries as well as his own as he continued to thrust deep inside her, revelling in the way she felt around him, warm, soft and wet. Molly clung to him, her nails digging into his back beneath his rumpled shirt. 

This was not the first time they'd done this - Arthur certainly would never have taken advantage of his beloved Molly, but somehow, time alone with her tended to lead to compromising situations, no matter how hard he tried to behave. The first time they'd made love had been during a late night stroll on Hogwarts grounds; he still bore the marks from his beating by Apollyon Pringle, the school's caretaker. Although they hadn't actually been caught in the act, Arthur suspected Mr. Pringle was well aware of what they'd been up to. 

He felt less guilty about it now - they'd gotten engaged over Christmas holidays, the last time he'd actually seen her until today. Of course, their engagement was a secret - Old Man Prewett didn't think Arthur was a worthy suitor for his only daughter, so they'd been forced to do it on the sly. At least until Arthur could find a way to convince Mr. Prewett that he was sincere in his intentions. For now, Molly wore her engagement ring on a chain around her neck. Arthur had scrimped and saved to buy the small, delicate ring for six months. He wished he could have given her something more impressive, but his salary from his new job at the Ministry was meagre and he also needed to pay for living expenses now that he was out of school. 

That was the reason they were in the alleyway now, caught up in a desperate knee trembler rather than rolling around on a proper bed in a room at the Three Broomsticks or even, Merlin forbid, at the Hog's Head Inn. As much as he wanted to treat his fiancée to the finer things in life, right now Arthur simply could not afford it. Whatever savings he had from his paltry paycheque had been put away in Gringotts, hopefully going towards a home and expenses once they were married. 

A scrabbling noise gave him pause, tensing in Molly's arms, but it turned out to be an overcurious rat, nothing more. 

Arthur fought for breath, resting against Molly for support. "Perhaps we should…we should stop," he rasped in her ear. 

"No, please, Arthur…" she pleaded. "I want you and it's been so long since we…" Molly kissed him into silence, her mouth warm and soft against his, urging him to resume his frantic movements, wanting her as he'd never done before. 

Finally, release came, Arthur spilling into her with a loud groan, which reverberated in the alleyway. He slowed, Molly's hands now in his hair, comforting and soothing him. 

"M-molly, my dearest Molly…" he gasped, his breath steaming in the cool March air. "My beautiful, beautiful Mollywobbles…" 

"Arthur," she murmured, "I love you." 

"I'm sorry you didn't…" he started, but she shook her head, auburn curls bobbing. 

"I'm fine, love." 

"But…" he kissed her deeply. "I want you to enjoy things too." He flushed, embarrassed by his animalistic behaviour. He'd been brought up to behave like a gentleman and had always strived to treat women with respect and understanding, always had at least until he met Molly Prewett - she had an effect on him like no other girl ever had. Somehow, she persuaded him to misbehave in ways he'd never even dreamed of before. 

Molly smiled indulgently. "I did. And I will. This just wasn't the best place for me to do it. You mustn't worry about it." 

"I'm sorry, you must think I'm—" 

"Nonsense," she replied, silencing him with a kiss. "Do you honestly believe I would have let you if I hadn't wanted you to?" 

"I love you, Molly. I don't want you thinking I'm some sort of beast or that I expect you to…" 

"Arthur Weasley," Molly's tone told him that she'd brook no argument. 

Arthur bit his lip, growing quiet. He'd learned quite early on in their relationship that there was no disagreeing with her when she'd set her mind to something. Instead, he brushed some stray tendrils off her face, gazing into her dark brown eyes. "I love you," he repeated. 

"We should probably leave. Just in case…" Molly was Head Girl and would be in deep trouble if anyone caught her standing here, her skirt hitched up around her waist, behaving like a Knockturn Alley strumpet. 

"Of course, my dear." Arthur withdrew carefully, handing her back the white cotton knickers he'd wadded into his robe pocket, then pulled his own pants and trousers back on, not protesting as she cast a few discreet cleaning charms on both of them. 

Soon they were strolling hand in hand back into Hogsmeade, towards the gates of the school for a very tearful goodbye.

* * *

That had been early Spring, but now it was nearly Summer and things had changed. A week before Molly was due to leave school, Arthur received a letter via owl which read simply _"I'm pregnant."_ in her extremely neat handwriting. It had jarred him to get the news - of course, they'd already spoken about having a family: at least two or three - but he hadn't expected it to happen so quickly. Obviously, their marriage plans would have to be put into motion earlier, with or without her family's blessing. No child of Arthur Weasley's was going to be born out of wedlock. No one would ever accuse him of being irresponsible.

Which is why Arthur found himself whisking Molly off to Gretna Green in the middle of the night to get married. Her brothers, Gideon and Fabian, had promised to keep their father at bay at least long enough for them to cross the border into Scotland and do the deed. He'd been surprised at the Prewett twins' kindness, half-expecting them to snitch to Old Man Prewett immediately just to cause trouble for Molly, but the shock that their normally rules-bound younger sister had done something that scandalous had impressed them. It had created a camaraderie between the four of them that Arthur would never have predicted, but he was extremely grateful. As was his bride-to-be. 

Molly let out a sigh of relief as the local 'anvil priest' banged his hammer down upon his anvil, sparks flying everywhere. Arthur heard the two ancient Scots biddies who'd been brought in as witnesses start to weep as the blacksmith pronounced Molly and himself man and wife, then Summoned a piece of parchment already filled out with their names and the date. Both Molly and Arthur signed their names to the scroll and then, it was done. They were married. 

"Congratulations, me lad," said the blacksmith, extending a large scarred hand to Arthur. The man's grip was like a vice as he shook Arthur's hand furiously. "And you too, lassie." Before Arthur could stop him, the huge, bearded man had grabbed Molly in a bear hug, planting an enthusiastic kiss on her cheek while nearly crushing the nosegay of local wildflowers she held in her trembling hands. 

"Thank you," said Molly in a small voice. Arthur had never seen her so quiet or nervous in all the years he'd known her, and it was a bit unsettling. Perhaps it was the pregnancy or just fear of her father sweeping in over the Scottish border in a fit of murderous fury or the reality that they were now married finally hitting her. All he knew was that he wanted to comfort her and protect her from anything that might be frightening her. It was a rare feeling — usually Molly was well and truly capable of taking care of herself and never let anyone forget it. 

"Now, if I were ye, I'd be taking such a _boireannach as bòidhche_ away from the likes of me and off somewhere a bit more private," said the blacksmith with a leer. He gave Arthur a bawdy wink, causing Molly to blush and the old ladies to titter loudly. 

"Y-yes, sir," Arthur stammered, taking his bride by the hand and leading her toward the inn where he had secured a room for the night. 

It wasn't the most luxurious place he'd ever seen — in his fantasies, Arthur had always imagined taking Molly to some exotic resort in a sunnier clime or a posh hotel in London for their honeymoon — but the inn was clean and homey, and it was the best he could afford on his meagre wages. Fabian and Gideon had given him some money to insure that they could stay somewhere nice for a night or two. Arthur had felt guilty about taking it, but his new brothers-in-law had convinced him to accept it as a wedding present. And he really did want to give his Mollywobbles the best of everything. 

Molly was giggling nervously as Arthur signed the hotel register and collected the key from the front desk, then ordered their luggage to be brought up to their room. He was elated when the desk clerk told him a complimentary bottle of champagne would be sent up as well. The champers was an indulgence they really couldn't afford, so the news was most welcome. Arthur hated to be so mean about money, but he had a wife to care for and soon another mouth to feed as well. 

"Ready to go upstairs, Mrs.Weasley?" he asked, offering Molly his arm gallantly. 

Her brown eyes sparkled with mischief as she slipped her slim arm through his own, and pressed her mouth to his, her kisses full of promise. "Whenever you are, Mr. Weasley." Her voice was husky as she said his name; there was no question as to her intent and it sent a shiver of excitement up Arthur's spine. His trousers felt significantly tighter too — he was grateful for the long dress robes he wore over them. Molly had to be aware of what she was doing to him, but he didn't really want to share his state of arousal with any of the other people milling about in the inn's foyer. 

They nearly flew up the rickety staircase to the next floor, Arthur cursing under his breath as the rusty key stuck in the lock. He jiggled it with increasing frustration until finally, thankfully, the old, oak door swung open, revealing the room behind it. "Well, here we are then," he said, his words catching in his throat. His heart was pounding with fear mingled with excitement as he caught sight of the large bed inside, rose petals already strewn upon the thick white duvet. 

The room was not very big, but it was the largest space Arthur had ever been allowed to be alone with Molly in (not counting Hogwarts grounds, of course). The bed seemed massive and inviting. A surge of arousal coursed through Arthur as he realised that Molly was all his now, that no one could stop him from being with her, even in such a posh setting. They were husband and wife, bonded to one another for life. 

"Well?" Molly looked at him expectantly. It took a few seconds for it to dawn on Arthur as to what she was waiting for. 

With a smile, he scooped her up carefully in his arms. Molly was petite, her waist so narrow that he could span it with both hands, and so it was nothing to carry her over the threshold. He didn't stop until they'd reached the bed where he gingerly deposited her upon the mattress, before drawing out his wand to shut the door behind them with a resounding thud. 

Arthur reached up and pulled off the chaplet of wildflowers Molly had worn in lieu of a proper tiara or wedding veil. The pins holding her hair up loosened, causing her hair to come tumbling down in bright copper curls that framed her face perfectly. Molly suddenly resembled the painting of a woodland goddess Arthur had once seen in a museum; a wild, wanton look that made his breath catch in his throat. "Beautiful," he murmured. 

Molly lowered her eyes demurely, her cheeks flushing an attractive pink. "Oh, Arthur," she sighed. 

He cupped one hand behind her head, savouring the feel of her silken curls against his fingers as he drew her in to kiss her again, her mouth soft and yielding beneath his own. He felt Molly starting to unbutton his robes, the tips of her fingers teasing against his throat and chest as she found bare skin beneath the stiff fabric. Arthur moaned against her lips, his free hand closing around the swell of her breast. 

A knock at the door stopped him cold. "Bugger," he muttered, pulling away in frustration. 

It was the bell boy with their luggage and their champagne. Arthur waited impatiently, fidgeting and casting furtive glances at Molly who somehow managed to be the picture of innocence and calm. Finally their few cases were stowed in the room, the champagne set on ice and the bell boy sent packing with a fist full of Sickles to his name. Arthur put out the "Do Not Disturb" flag and locked the door with a flourish, but when he turned around, Molly was nowhere to be seen. 

"Molly? _Molly?_ " Arthur called in confusion. Had she changed her mind so quickly? There was no way Old Man Prewett could have come in and kidnapped her without being noticed, but... 

"I'm right here, Arthur," Molly replied, stepping out from behind the bathroom door. "I was beginning to think he'd never leave." 

Arthur's jaw dropped in surprise as his eyes lit on his wife, now clad only in her lingerie: white lacy bra, matching knickers, suspender belt and stockings, plus her heels. Her figure was trim and curvy, her pregnancy still barely noticeable; only the fullness of her breasts and the slight curve of her belly gave it away. 

"I didn't want to waste any more time," Molly continued playfully. "I hope you don't mind...?" 

"M-mind," he stammered, afraid his eyes were bugging out of his head behind his horn-rimmed glasses as he stared at her. "Hardly, my love." 

Molly sashayed to the bed, her hips undulating in a hypnotic pattern. She sat down on the mattress, crooked her finger at him in invitation, then licked her lips. It was almost too much for Arthur to bear. As if in a trance, he walked toward her, then lowered himself down next to her. 

With a smirk, she reached over, drawing his glasses off slowly before setting them down with great care on the nightstand next to the bed. Arthur blinked, then leaned over to gather her in his arms. 

It took no time to strip Molly's lingerie off, leaving her naked and vulnerable beneath him. She was beautiful; her skin pale and soft, as Arthur began to cover every inch of her body with kisses and caresses, leaving no part of her unexplored or untouched. As anxious as he was for his own gratification, Arthur was not going to squander his first opportunity to pleasure his wife in every possible way. The scent, the touch and the taste of her were intoxicating. 

He managed to bring her to orgasm twice before he relented. Molly lay back on the bed panting, a look of utter bliss on her face. Arthur crawled up the length of the mattress to lie beside her, his lips grazing the crook of her neck. Molly moaned softly in appreciation. 

"Arthur Weasley, if you don't let me get you out of those clothes and allow me to reciprocate, I shall be very cross indeed," she insisted, already tugging on the lapels of his robes and drawing them off his shoulders. In his haste to undress his wife, Arthur had neglected himself. 

She made short work of his clothing: robes, trousers, socks, underpants all went flying as Molly made good on her promise of reciprocation. It didn't take long for her to reduce Arthur to a state of complete and utter helplessness. Her teasing and tormenting was so arousing that he was certain he'd explode if release didn't happen soon. 

To his relief, Molly seemed to know instinctively when to stop toying with him. Arthur let out a groan of relief, his back arching up as she straddled his prone body, easing herself down upon his aching cock, her knees pressing against his heaving sides. It wasn't long before they'd fallen into rough syncopation, each thrust more intense than the last, until finally Arthur couldn't hold back any longer. The orgasm crashed down around him, sending his senses reeling as his entire body was engulfed in euphoria. 

"I love you, Molly," he gasped, pulling her down to kiss her. "So very much." 

Snuggling against him, her breath warm and moist as it ghosted against his cheek, Molly sighed in contentment. "I love you too, Arthur." 

"Nothing shall ever part us, Mollywobbles. Nothing and _no one_ ," he declared, a hint of fierceness in his voice. "I shan't ever let them take you away from me." 

"I know that," she said softly, then kissed him again, her fingers playing in his damp hair. "Wild hippogriffs couldn't drag me away from you, my dearest. Not now. Not ever." 

Arthur held his wife, content just to listen to the sound of her breathing, to feel her heart beating against his chest. At least until they had both recovered. And then they made love again and again until they both collapsed in exhaustion.

* * *

The kitchen of the Burrow was warm and bright as the afternoon sun shone through the windows. Molly was happy that the days were getting longer and warmer again; soon it would be Spring and she'd be able to take the boys outside. Some fresh air would be good for them after being cooped up in the house all winter. Little Charlie, nearly three months old and growing fast, fussed in her arms, his tiny hands balling into fists as he did.

"Shhhh, my love," Molly cooed, bouncing the podgy, drooling baby in her arms until he settled down again. "That's a good boy..." 

"Mummy! Mummy! _Look!_ " 

She glanced over at two-year old Billy who was sitting on the floor building his wooden blocks into large stacks. "That's very nice, Billy. Can you tell me what that is?" 

"S'a pyr'mid like Unca Giddyun says they gots in Eejup." Her oldest son beamed at her proudly, the thick strands of his ginger fringe flopping down over his forehead, obscuring his eyes. Molly made a mental note to give Billy's hair a trim as soon as possible. 

"Oh, what a clever lad you are," said Rosmerta, looking up from her now empty tea cup and admiring Billy's handiwork. 

Molly was very happy her friend had found some time away from her job at the Three Broomsticks to come round for a spot of tea. As much as she loved her life in Ottery St. Catchpole, it could get lonely at times out in the country, especially when Arthur was always working so long and so hard. She adored her boys, but it was nice to have an adult to talk to from time to time. "That he is," she said with a hint of maternal pride in her voice. "Even his grandfather can't find fault with our Billy which, I suppose, is a minor miracle." 

"How is that going?" Rosmerta asked, putting her hand atop of Molly's and patting it sympathetically. "Your dad finally talking to you again?"

"Marginally, but I suppose that's better than not at all." Molly flashed Rosmerta a rueful smile. "I don't think he'll ever truly forgive me for running off with Arthur the way I did. He hardly gave us a choice though, did he? At least Father's finally accepted the fact that Arthur is a very good provider rather than the ne'er do well he assumed him to be." Charlie interrupted with a loud squawk, only growing quiet when his mother slipped his dummy into his mouth. The baby sucked loudly and contentedly as she began to rock him. 

"He'll come round, Molly," Rosmerta assured her. "Especially now that he's got two beautiful grandsons to dote over." 

"Father _has_ seemed a bit more approachable since Charlie was born," Molly mused. "I'm hoping he's figured out that Arthur's actually not about to run out on me and the children any time soon."

"I'm glad to hear that. I suppose it doesn't hurt that this one," Rosmerta chucked Charlie under his chubby chin with the tip of her finger, "was planned for, does it?" 

Molly's only response was a roll of her eyes. 

"I don't mean it as an insult, Molly. I know how much you love Arthur, and I know he'd never leave you, but it came as a great shock to us all."

"Sometimes these things just happen, Rosmerta," Molly retorted.

"Well, obviously. But, to be honest, I still don't understand how you could have been so careless about—"

"I wasn't—"

"Well, when we were at school, you could set the clock by your cycles. You said you were taking precautions with Arthur, and yet there's the proof that you weren't." With a sidelong glance, Rosmerta indicated the oblivious Billy who was now busy knocking his blocks over with great enthusiasm and even greater noise. "He's a lovely little accident, but an accident all the same."

"I'll have you know _he_ was no accident!" Molly snapped, her cheeks heating up. "I can't believe you'd say such a thing!"

"Why, you cunning little witch, I _knew_ it!" Rosmerta arched a well-shaped eyebrow at the admission. "You had it all planned out, didn't you? Was Arthur in on it too?" 

"Shhh...little cauldrons have big ears!" Molly canted her head in Billy's direction, then lowered her voice considerably. She could feel herself blushing further. She'd never admitted the truth of the matter to anyone, not even Rosmerta, her oldest friend. At least, not until now. "Of course I did, and Arthur had nothing to with it. He doesn't have a clue. I can't believe it took you so long to suss it out, clever clogs. You know my father would never have allowed me to marry Arthur under any circumstances. Weasleys would never be good enough for the Prewetts in his eyes. So I had to do something, hadn't I?"

"You were already engaged — you still could have eloped." 

Shaking her head, Molly let out an exaggerated sigh. "I would have, but Arthur... well, I love him with all my heart, but you _know_ what he's like. Hasn't got an ambitious bone in his body. He desperately wanted my family's approval and he never would have gone against my father's wishes without a little prompting." She smiled in spite of herself. "It worked out rather well, don't you think?" 

Rosmerta let out a snort of amusement. "You ought to have been a Slytherin with that kind of mind, Molly Weasley." 

"Hardly!" 

"Don't you ever regret it though? You were the cleverest girl in our year, Molly — the Head Girl. You could've done anything you wanted with your talents, but instead you—" 

Molly cut her friend off before she could continue. "I'm perfectly content, Rosmerta. In fact, I'm deliriously happy. I love Arthur, and I wanted us to be together. I regret nothing." She looked over at Billy again, smiling indulgently. "I've got everything I've ever wanted: a doting husband, two beautiful boys, and a wonderful home." That was nearly true — there was still one thing Molly still desperately longed for. With any luck, her next baby would be the daughter she'd always dreamed of. "It's early days yet. Who knows, when the boys are a little bigger, perhaps I'll take a job if I fancy one." 

"Well, there's always an opening at the Three Broomsticks if you want it. Old Tillbrook would take on a witch with skills like yours in a heartbeat. You'd be quite the feather in his cap — and probably be running the place in five years time," said Rosmerta with a grin. "It'd be fun to have you there at any rate." 

"Not right now. My boys need me." Molly matched Rosmerta's smile with a broader one. "All three of them."

* * *

_"Not right now. My boys need me. All three of them,"_ Arthur heard Molly say as he stood hidden behind the kitchen door, listening in on her conversation. He knew it was wrong to be eavesdropping on his wife and her friend, but he'd been unable to stop himself.

Drawing back from the door frame, he exhaled slowly, attempting to calm down as he tried to take in everything he'd just heard. His heart was pounding in his chest, and his knees threatened to buckle. By chance, he'd come home early from work, planning to surprise Molly and the boys with an evening in. Before he'd had a chance to announce himself, he'd heard Molly talking to someone in the kitchen, and curiosity had gotten the better of him. He'd hung back to listen as she'd made her admission to Rosmerta; his stomach twisted into a knot of misery as he recalled the conversation once again.

So, Billy had not been an accident after all. In an odd way, Arthur felt a flood of relief knowing that— he couldn't have loved his firstborn son more no matter what the circumstances of his birth had been, but now the guilt attached to it had dissipated. He knew he ought to be angry with Molly for her deception, but somehow, knowing she'd done it for him, for _them_ , caused a strange sort of elation instead. 

Molly certainly hadn't needed to trap him. Arthur had been in love with Molly for years, and would have done anything for her, even if his feelings for her had been unrequited. He knew she could have had any boy she'd wanted and had never lacked for would-be suitors while in school: boys who were better looking, boys who had more money, boys with superior prospects for the future. And yet, she'd chosen _him_ over all of them, and orchestrated a way to keep him in spite of her father's wishes. 

Best of all, she had stayed.

Down deep, Arthur knew Rosmerta was right. Molly could have done anything she'd wanted, been anything she'd wanted. She was a formidable, talented witch with top marks on all her exams. The world had been wide open for her, but she'd chosen to run off with him instead. Molly had loved him enough to give up everything to be together, even though that's the last thing Arthur would have asked of her. 

He would let Molly keep her secret. He would never let on that he had any clue about what she'd done. She'd said that being with him and the boys made her deliriously happy, and he believed her. Molly loved him as much as he loved her, and in the end, that was all that really mattered. Somehow, even knowing what he knew now about Molly's scheming, Arthur Weasley was incredibly happy too.


End file.
